An Aroma of Jasmine
by Lucicelo
Summary: You grew up behind the large, looming walls of Ba Sing Se. As the daughter of a nobleman, you entered into an arranged marriage, dooming you to a loveless marriage. After the death of your husband, you didn't expect to find love in a tea house. Reader X Iroh.


_**This is my first step into writing Reader fics. I'll do some other fandoms since the writing is flowing through my fingers. I wanted to write a Reader X Iroh because why not. lol **_

_**I went overboard. This was supposed to be a drabble and ended into a 6K oneshot. **_

_**Thanks for reading!**_

_**-Lucicelo**_

* * *

You grew up behind the large, looming walls of Ba Sing Se.

As the youngest daughter of an old family line, your education consisted of the citywide acceptance of the peaceful prosperity while learning the intricacies of your _status_. As a nobleman's daughter, you reflected your_ family image_ and how your father ruled his home. While your elder brothers went outside to play, you remained inside your home to receive countless home lessons. Your responsibilities lied in handling the home while your brothers learned their father's business ventures in a leisure pace.

Despite your attempts of complaints in wanting time off, your words went to deaf ears. Your mother piled on more lessons in order to _subdue_ you. Before you began transforming into a woman, you _faked_ subservience to stop your mother's callous words over your lack of grace. Her biting tone cut into your self esteem than the taunting of the playdates she forced on you.

You thanked the heavens for your father's doting nature. Whenever he left for business, he returned with new books or cloth for needlepoint. He kissed your forehead at bedtime and held you in his arms whenever you cried. You felt his love and never doubted that he cared for you. A family man who loved his children more than _anything_ else in the world.

Your mother, a strict believer of rules and etiquette, displayed _no _visible love for her children. Of course, you didn't believe your mother was _heartless_, but as you grew older, the woman _never_ showed interest in your activities outside your home lessons.

Despite your father's favoritism, you didn't escape the inevitable for _all_ noble daughters.

An_ arranged marriage._

You met your groom on your wedding day. A man of your status young enough to not let his wealth stretch out his girth. His features were adequate. Nothing off-putting enough to make you avert your eyes while performing your duties. His eyes didn't twinkle at the sight of you in your wedding garment. In comparison, your brothers and your father _overwhelmed_ you in compliments to soothe your nerves.

To your disappointment, he didn't stir any fires inside of your chest. Your prepubescent novels described a _passionate_ love to last a lifetime. You hoped this would be the case once you settled into your husband's home. In your naivete, you voiced it out loud to your mother as a means to include her in your special day.

She crushed your hopes and dreams through describing the possibility of your husband never loving you. In fact, she presented your own father as a prime example. He never loved her. The attentions of the beginning of their marriage _dissipated_ once their first child was born. His attention always went to their children.

You tried to argue for your father, but she pinched your side when your relatives flocked in the room. Her vicious glare silenced you from bringing it up again. Your family members congratulations felt _hollow_. On the outside, you smiled as expected, but on the inside, you wanted to argue back with your mother for your father's sake.

Your mother's words echoed through your mind after your left the party with your new husband. You tried to engage your husband in conversation, a way to break the awkward tension that developed in your carriage.

It didn't work.

He put in no effort in continuing the conversation with you. You tried different topics and asking him about his job. You did your best to ignore the beginning stages of doom of your marriage.

If any love for your husband developed, it _wilted_ from the cold sense of duty. Nothing you did endeared you to your husband. He ignored your attempts and handed you money to keep you entertained. Your husband returned home long enough to create a child. Without fail, he returned to work for multiple days at a time. His own mother, a widow, ignored the obvious neglect and reassured you of your pampered lifestyle. No need to have an involved husband to disturb your free time.

Again, you bit your tongue of your true feelings in the matter.

You wanted a husband to become fond of in later years. You didn't want to wander listless through the halls in boredom as your husband avoided his own family for higher positions in government. In the end, your husband ignored signs of sickness on account of overworking and collapsed in front of officials.

You and your children didn't cry at his funeral.

You ignored the whispers of your _heartlessness_ and the strange behavior of your children. Your grandchildren stood clueless since they never met their grandfather _in person_.

Behind closed doors, you popped open an aged alcoholic beverage and serve a two fingers worth of it to your children. Your sons downed it without issue. Your daughters tossed decorum and tossed it back. You sipped your serving. The burning trickled down your throat as you pondered your _lack_ of emotion for your husband. Even with his distant behavior, he didn't mistreat you or your children. But, you understood your children's feelings over the matter.

Your husband didn't care enough to build _any_ semblance of a relationship.

Once your husband was buried, your eldest son took over the family business. As a dutiful son, he didn't kick you out on the streets or made you feel any less wanted in your own home. His wife agreed to leave you in your marital bedroom to keep a sense of stability.

You moved out of the room to another with a beautiful view.

* * *

Months later, your daughter invited you for tea at the Jasmine Dragon, the revamped tea house that promoted delicious teas as well as delicate bites of food. The idea of trying out a new tea house peaked your interest. You loved blending in the crowds and forgot your status for a small amount of time. No one expected you to behave any other way than socially polite when drinking your tea.

You entered through the front doors to different aromas of tea blends. Your excitement showed on your face according to your daughter as she guided you to one of the tables.

Not long after, a grumpy teenager arrived to your table to take your order. His aura didn't reflect his manners as he politely took your order. He set down a plate of treats on the table before taking out a notepad from his pocket. Your daughter asked about the different blends and the young man kept up with her questioning. You were _impressed_. The young man did his diligence and even recommended a special blend created by the owner.

When you turned to thank him, you saw the scar on the left side of his face. You schooled your features just in time before he deciphered your emotions. You hoped he didn't notice the _slip_ in your old mask. As a mother, your heart _wrenched_ at the large scar that stretched out toward his ear. You reassured yourself the cause was an accident and not done on purpose to stop the tears from coming to your eyes.

Thankfully, your daughter didn't comment on the scar or made it a point to linger in her gaze for long. You entered into other topics of conversation, distracting you both from voicing your concerns.

While engrossed in your conversation, a tea pot was placed in the middle of your table. A heart stopping voice reached your ears as you turned to the source. An older somewhat heavyset man with a full silver beard thanked you for your patronage. He introduced himself as Mushi, the new owner of the tea house. You introduced yourself and your daughter as he described his blend with such _passion_.

You were _entranced_.

You didn't realize you finished numerous cups of tea during your conversation until your daughter requested a new pot. Mushi rubbed the back of his head as he laughed before excusing himself to get another pot of tea. When he returned, the conversation resumed for another minute before he left for the other tables.

You didn't hear your daughter's questions as you stared at Mushi's retreating back.

The tea owner made your heart _flutter_.

* * *

You never imagined that at your mature age, you would develop such a strong infatuation for someone else. Even as a married woman, your eyes didn't wander toward other men. You remained loyal to your husband without issue. It was engrained in your lessons to never look at temptation. A wife remained at home unless accompanying her husband. Although, your late husband's lack of attendance to high society parties affected whatever end means he desired. This made him eager to stay at work to make up for his slight.

The written words of your old romance novels came to the forefront of your mind. The descriptions of your face warming in shyness and the rapid beating of your heart, fit the situation perfectly. You smiled and chuckled at the tea house owner's jokes. Some of which were horrible, but somehow, he brought laughter out of your body.

Your daughter took notice and teased you over your interest in the man. She didn't yell her observations out loud, but leaned close to point them out. To your mortification, your face went bright red. All your children wanted you to experience love. The one good thing your husband ever did was to let you pick suitable spouses for your children. You made sure to pick those who fit them well so they didn't experience your _failure_. As a result, they didn't begrudge you if you ever remarried or found love.

When you returned home, your daughter declared spreading the word to her siblings. You didn't have heart to stop her. She appeared so excited for you. Ever the romantic, your daughter saw this as a means for you to kindle a romance.

At the end of the day, your children were excited of your interest in a man. As their mother, you pinched their cheeks for their ridiculousness, but you didn't mean the glare you gave them. In any case, they thought your crush as a passing _fancy_. An indication of your readiness to get out in society and mingle. Surely, _another_ man in your circles will want you as a wife.

You didn't put _any_ power in that idea.

You passed _marriageable_ age long ago. Your value reduced as the years passed on. After having multiple children, it went down even further. Without your husband, you relied on the charity of your children who jumped in to help you live in comfort. Your father passed on years ago, leaving you no choice but to rely on your children.

Noblemen desired young women if they had no heirs to pass on their lineage. If they were widowed, they _still_ wanted a young wife to keep up with their children. A ridiculous notion since you kept up with your grandchildren just fine.

Your once youthful features aged as time passed on. Of course, you looked younger than your current age. You took very good care of yourself. The free time gave you the ability to distract yourself with beauty treatments and finding the right ones to keep your skin healthy.

Anything personal about yourself didn't matter. Your prospects crumbled before you had a chance to try.

You thought of the boisterous older gentleman and found yourself daydreaming while stitching a new quilt for your grandchildren. The idea of returning to the tea house seemed like a good idea. You loved the new ambiance created through Mushi's interference and the tea was _delightful_. Your children already planned their own trips with their spouses, making it easier for you to attend without their questioning.

Although, the embarrassment of displaying a crush made you hesitate. You didn't want Mushi to notice your _infatuation_. It seemed ridiculous to develop such strong feelings after the first conversation. When you thought about it, you knew that his charming and easy going personality won you over before he left to attend other tables.

He showed such a vast difference from the cold nobles you encountered at parties and visitations.

Finishing the last stitch of your blanket, you set down your supplies to her desk and you inspected the fabric. It seemed somewhat perfect. Nothing was out of place. You might gift it to one of your grandkids when they visited you.

Folding the blanket over your lap, you made up your mind.

You would go back _once_ a week.

No more than _once_ a week.

* * *

The nephew of the tea house owner, Li, looked at you with a slight smirk before writing down your order. You smiled up at him and thanked him for remembering you. He waved off your comments, citing your constant presence in the tea house. Of course, he wouldn't _forget_ you. You kept sneaking glances at his uncle and paid for _multiple_ pots of tea.

Li's surly disposition didn't bother you. You paid patronage to the tea house more than enough times to witness Li's embarrassed reactions of the giggly teenagers who lingered at their tables. Girls of the lower upper class who didn't have your _overbearing_ rules of conduct. You always chuckled in amusement at seeing the teenagers attempts at flirting.

Li retreated toward the back, yelling your order toward Mushi. You heard Mushi's contagious laugh which made you involuntarily smile.

You broke your own promise in coming to the tea house once a week. A one day became _every_ single day. When your children questioned you, you voiced wanting to leave the house more often to exercise your legs. The life of a noblewoman brought on lack of mobility and you didn't want to face pains when you transitioned into old age.

In any case, many of their elite went to the tea house. Meaning, no ruffians strolled in to bother the clientele. This made her feel safe in arriving in the early mornings and sometimes in the afternoons. Just in case, she kept her purse inside of her robes to deter pickpockets. The garish coin purses that other nobles carried made them _easy_ targets for thieves.

You watched as Mushi popped out of the kitchen and went straight to your table. His giant grin made you excited to speak to him. Mushi _always_ spent extra time speaking to you, but you brushed it off as amazing customer service. Mushi's endearing personality made him popular enough to bring in customers to a once flopping tea house.

"Lady (Y/N), I have to thank you for your constant patronage." Mushi set down the tea pot on the coaster in the middle of her table. "It's great to see _another_ person enjoy tea as much as I do."

Your cheeks pinked underneath your discreet makeup. "The pleasure is all mine. Your blends are superior than many I have drank in my life." She put her hands up at his skeptical face. "Before you assume I'm exaggerating, many of the blends at home don't have as much consideration as you have put in them."

He pulled out a chair before he sat down across from you. His expression serious and almost offended on your behalf. "That's such a _tragedy._ Who are the people that made you such subpar tea? And for you to get used to it!"

Your lips twitched as you tried hard not to laugh. Knowing Mushi's joking nature, you knew his serious expression cracked at some point during his sudden serious moments. "Ah...my home staff merely boil the water and pour it through the leaves real fast." Mushi choked. "They don't wait the appropriate amount of time before serving it. Apparently, my guests enjoy tea in this manner. This gives them a chance to add copious amounts of sweetener."

Mushi patted your hand, sympathetic at your plight. "(Y/N), you are more than welcome to continue coming here _everyday_." You blushed at his blatant observation. "Such a lovely woman deserves nothing but the _best_ brewed tea. How dare your staff deny you a perfect cup of tea."

Your eyes squinted as your smile broke through. "I _never_ thought of stopping my patronage." You looked down at the tea pot with a fond smile. "I enjoy coming here everyday. You always make my experience an enjoyable one."

Through averting your eyes, you missed the appreciative smile on Mushi's face.

* * *

After a rough day with your mother, you stomped through the streets. Well, stomping with discreet steps since the loud streets disguised your anger. Somehow, your mother lived into a ripe old age. Sadly, not old enough to where her mind wandered or kept her bedridden. As a result, the woman continued on criticizing her family members in their life choices. Of course, her comments were disguised as well meaning, not at all displaying her true feelings like a _commoner_.

Her comment of your children made your blood _boil_. You raised them with limited exposure to nannies. You showered them with endless love, making them comfortable enough to visit you all the time. A vast difference of your mother who expected her children to make a obligatory visit.

You made sure to use _every_ excuse in the book to avoid _any_ stretch of contact.

As you entered the Jasmine Dragon, you didn't collect yourself in time before Li bumped into you. He maneuvered the teapot in his hand away from you before it splashed onto you. He used his other arm to stop you from tripping over your own feet and falling onto the ground.

"M-My apologies." You stammered out in mortification. "I wasn't-Goodness, I was _distracted_."

Li reassured you. "Don't worry about it." He arched a brow before he motioned to one of the private tables. Ones that you noted became full without any issue. "You can go sit there and I will bring your usual order."

Your eyes widened as you inquired. "Are you sure? I know many nobles who book those tables in _advance_. I don't want to impose you."

"Uncle will deal with it. Go ahead." Li waved off your concerns before he left to serve tea to customers.

Awkwardly walking to the table, you sat down and began breathing through your nose. Your forced your eyes to focus on the engravings on the table and the lavish curtains. Anything to distract yourself from the fumble you experienced. You had not reacted in an ungraceful way in _years_.

A clink brought you of your thoughts. Looking up, Mushi's tender smile caused your initial feelings to simmer down. You smiled, greeting him as he served you a cup. He sat down across from you, settling into his seat.

He poured his own cup before he spoke. "It's not everyday that I see your frustration clear on your face. Would you like to talk about what's wrong?"

You peered down at the murky tea in your cup, pondering in whether to reveal the truth or not. It was impolite to pour your feelings and reveal family issues to outsiders. Even though their mother aggravated their nerves, your brothers shrugged it off as a fact of life. They pushed their wives onto your mother, leaving you time to escape if you wished.

You had nothing to complain about.

Then again, Mushi _somehow_ made it possible for you to confide in him. You began speaking without meaning to and you couldn't stop.

"My mother is a _soulless_ statue." You sighed. "I thought she would change in her old age, but she has become more _infuriating_. My elder brother, bless his soul, housed her after my father died."

Mushi winced. "Ah...how _kind_ of him."

"A _terrible_ idea." You said. "But, he keeps her away from me. That's a _positive_."

Mushi covered his mouth when he snorted. "That's a way to make sure you stay sane. I consider it lucky that my late father-in-law lived long enough to keep his wife at home. From learning pieces of your mother, she sounds exactly like that woman." He shivered and seemed in thought before he added in. "But, speaking ill of the dead is uncalled for."

You let out an unladylike snort. "But, my mother is _alive_. She's _prime material_ for criticism." You covered your mouth when you realized you broke protocol. "My apologies, I-"

Mushi let out a loud chortle before he shook his head. "Don't apologize! Please continue! My, my, I'm sure you have plenty to say about your husband."

"I would, but as you previously claimed, speaking ill of the dead is impolite." You informed him. "He died last year from an illness. We were an arranged marriage."

Mushi nodded as he refilled your cup. "My condolences. It is always a tragedy when ones spouse is laid to rest. Do you miss your husband?"

You bit into your lower lip when you admitted. "I don't."

"Oh?"

Averting your (E/C) eyes, you sighed. "We were not one of those successful arranged marriages. He focused more on his work than his family. Of course, there's nothing wrong with wanting to provide for your family, but he didn't show interest in us. Our children became bitter toward him and didn't cry at his funeral. They found their late grandfather more as a father figure than their own father."

Mushi said nothing to you.

Looking back at him, you see the sadness in his eyes at your plight. His previous easy going grin was gone. His expression of understanding made you want to cry. It took a person outside of your class to show _genuine_ empathy for your situation. The ramifications of an arranged marriage was a secret kept behind closed doors. No one spoke of it.

You met plenty of unsatisfied wives and husbands who _despised_ their spouses. Of course, they didn't speak of it, you saw it through their expressions and actions. You eyed their children who tried _in vain_ to get the attention of their parents. The immense pride over their pure blood and traditions kept them from _voicing_ a separation. Many would rather smile through the misery and present a front, than seek happiness for themselves.

He reached out his hand and curled his fingers over your dainty one. "It's an unfortunate consequence of _many_ arranged marriages. Either the spouse _or_ the children suffer due to the incompatibility."

"My children are more than willing to find a suitable man for me." You chuckled despite your tears. "Their efforts are appreciated, but it's _impossible_. My list is more or less _empty_. No nobleman wants to marry a _widow_. No. Let me correct myself, no man wants to marry a _widow_."

Mushi smiled light as he used his thumb to rub your knuckles. "(Y/N), there is no need to doubt yourself. Even I have thoughts of remarriage after my own wife's passing. I would never think of attaining a _younger_ wife. I have my hands full with my nephew and I'm sure he wouldn't approve of the choice."

You wiped away more tears as you sniffled. "Yes, I hold the same beliefs. I would not choose a younger man when the stages in life are so different. I would think of him as a child, an _inexperienced_ child, not as a _husband_." You let out a shaky sigh. "Thank you, Mushi."

"Pardon?"

You grinned at him. "You're the first person I have revealed my whole self to since I was a young woman. My brothers are attentive to me, but they have their own families to listen to. My concerns are not as important. Of course, I don't want to burden them with my problems."

Mushi picked up his tea to slurp it before he told you. "Well, you always have a listening ear with me."

* * *

Your invigorated energy and positivity caught the immediate attention of your family.

They _never_ saw you break away from the rules of the noble class. The smiles you reserved for your children appeared outside of your home. You noticed a difference in your interactions with numerous people. Your inner happiness showed through, making you _approachable_ to anyone who encountered you.

You began leaving your home for the new places in Ba Sing Se. Years passed since you explored the city on your own, which gave you a sense of adventure.

To your delight, the slights over Mushi's status _lessened_.

Your children saw the effect he made in your life. In Mushi's presence, you burst into stomach aching laughter and let yourself relax. He brought out your inner self, the part of yourself that you concealed to appease your mother. When you were married to their father, you were in misery and hid behind a well perfected mask.

They preferred your beaming smiles than the disguised fake smile you presented to your late husband.

* * *

Days later, you kissed Mushi before you left the tea house.

In the privacy of one of the reserved tables, you gathered the courage to show your feelings. Voicing them made your panic skyrocket so you decided on kissing him. A simple peck.

You thought these emotions would fade away afterwards. If you were honest with yourself, you were scared at how fast you found yourself enjoying Mushi's _company_. After a life of strict rules and regulations, you enjoying letting yourself behave outside your status and forget about expectations.

Mushi allowed you to express your _true_ feelings and complain about any little thing. In turn, you listened to Mushi's tragedies. How he lost his son at a young age, you comforted him through his silent tears that afternoon. He spoke of the strains of his family. Of course, he was vague, and you didn't push for details. The regret in his voice told you everything you needed to know.

As you leaned into his embrace, he pulled you closer to his body. Your heart soared in relief as he tightened his grip around your body. You placed your hands on his chest, losing yourself in the feeling. The soft pressing of your lips caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach. A feeling you _never_ experienced before.

His rough hands cupped your cheek as he tilted his head to mold your lips together.

This wasn't a novel sort of kiss, but it still made your toes _curl_.

* * *

Forcing yourself to walk at a tame pace, you went to the Jasmine Dragon for your morning cup. As you got closer to the building, you noticed the large doors were closed shut. Hurrying your steps, you noticed the large sign that informed the public of the sudden closure due to change of management.

Walking up the steps, you raised your hand to knock on the door when the door opened. Expecting Li or Mushi, you readied yourself to greet them. At the sight of a new face, your smile _faltered_.

"Ma'am, we're closed." The newcomer motioned to the sign. "You can come back later on this week."

You asked him. "Is something going on?"

"Change of management." He answered you as he hit his lower back with a grimace. "The old owner sold me the place last night. He left me with no other employees, so we're closed for the time being."

"O-Oh." You failed in hiding your disappointment. "Do you know Mushi's location? I have to speak to him over a private issue."

The older man shook his head. "My apologies, ma'am. I have no idea. He left no forwarding address for his missives either. Again, my apologies for the inconvenience."

You nodded your head before you thanked him for his time. Turning around, you took your time when you walked home. You tried not to let the disappointment _ruin_ the rest of your day.

* * *

You returned home to a letter courier at the front steps of your home.

"Lady (Y/N) (L/N)?" The young man inquired. When you confirmed your identity, he bowed low before he presented a letter to you. "Mushi from the Jasmine Dragon sends a missive."

Taking the letter from his hands, you said. "Thank you," You dug into your purse and handed the young man some coins. Walking through the threshold of your home, your heart beat faster as you imagined the contents of the letter.

As you walked through your home, your fingertips touched the wax seal on the envelope. You hoped he had a legitimate excuse for having made you doubt his intentions. The devastation you felt at the tea house _lingered_ in your mind. You didn't want to have to experience such a thing again.

When you entered your room, you shut the door and hurried near your chair. Breaking off the wax seal, you began reading his letter. His handwriting made it legible for you to read it. No sloppiness or rushed letters.

As you read Mushi's letter, your smile faltered at the apologies. His oncoming sentences made your stomach _churn_. When you made it to the main bombshell, your knees buckled from the _sudden_ faint. Staggering to closer to your chair, you sat down, the words _Fire Nation_ repeated in your mind.

Your mind imploded at the news of the war happening beyond your walls. The lies of Ba Sing Se, revealed in the letter clutched in your hands, were _exposed_. You placed a hand over your breast as you read the confession of love from Mushi, no, this wasn't his name.

Mushi _wasn't_ a refugee.

Mushi _wasn't_ even his _real_ name.

He was Prince Iroh of the _Fire Nation_.

* * *

You burned the letter once you memorized the contents. It was an _easy_ decision. There was no use hiding the letter in case one of your grandchildren looked through her desk. She shooed them from looking through her items, but children were curious creatures. Telling them no made their curiosity grow stronger.

Besides, the jarring truth imprinted in your mind, breaking away your previous beliefs. You remembered how you ignored the rumors of the Dai Li as nothing more than horror stories. With this truth, you wondered if the disappearances of your family members happened on account of finding out the truth.

Many merchants came through the gate of Ba Sing Se, it was possible rumors _spread_ through the common people. The gossip would have gotten to her class, bringing a panic the Dai Li would have _never_ tolerated. The Dai Li seemed to appear out of nowhere when they arrested an Earth Kingdom _betrayer_.

No, those people tried to break their _silly_ delusions.

As you stood in front of the stove, the crisp, beautiful writing, burned into ash.

You embraced yourself with your arms and wondered if Prince Iroh entertained you as a joke. A means to pass the time before he returned back to his nation. Despite his written fondness of love over you, you doubted him.

You blinked back tears and pushed back any thoughts of the sweet tea owner and his nephew. They disappeared from Ba Sing Se. Never to return.

"Mother? Are you in the kitchen?"

Flattening down your robes, you set a tea kettle on the stove before your son appeared in the kitchen. Turning to him, your strained smile caused his smile to falter. "Yes, sweetheart?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped himself. "Mother. Don't put on a happy smile. What's wrong?" He hurried to your side before he insisted. "_Mother_."

You blinked back the oncoming tears. The decision of lying to your son made you feel awful. You told a white lie every once in a while, but you _never_ concealed secrets from them. In any case, you didn't judgement if you revealed the whole truth. You didn't need the Dai Li to burst into your home if _any_ one of your family members _gossiped_.

You wiped away your tears. "Mushi broke things off with me." Your son readied himself to speak, eager to insult your ex paramour, but you intervened. "He sent me a letter to tell me that he left Ba Sing Se. His nephew needed to leave the city and he accompanied him. He sold the Jasmine Dragon."

"I'm so sorry, mother." He pulled you into his arms as you let your tears flow into his chest.

* * *

Time passed before you heard word of the defeat of the Fire Lord. According to your son, the Avatar, a twelve year old boy, defeated Fire Lord Ozai. Avatar Aang, an air bender, removed the bending from the tyrant _instead_ of killing him. An _easy_ punishment in your opinion. Until, you remembered the age of the young man. A twelve year old with limitless power saved the _world_. Not even the _youngest_ warriors killed a person at that age.

The new Fire Lord, Zuko, took over Fire Lord Ozai's place on the throne. Since, Fire Lord Ozai had _one_ son, you learned Li's true name. It suited him more than Li. Zuko was part of the Avatar's entourage, making his crowning of the throne more or less accepted.

Rumors of a possible wedding trickled throughout the lands.

Sitting in your duvet, your grandchildren clamored in excitement in hearing the news coming from one of her son's mouths. You rocked your newest grandchild, one of the many who inherited your (E/C) eyes, in your arms. Her weight kept you grounded as you listened to the news.

You were _relieved_ the war was over.

* * *

A month passed before your eldest son entered the entertainment room and handed you a paper covered parcel. The multiple stamps on the exterior told you it traveled a long way before making it to Ba Sing Se. Ever since Iroh left Ba Sing Se, no one sent you letters or parcels. The other widows came to interrupt you in your home _instead_ of sending you letters.

Inspecting the box, you inquired. "What is this?"

Your eldest son answered with an amused smile. "A courier insisted you receive it, but I assured him you would get it into your hands. I didn't know you kept communications with someone from the Fire Nation."

Your nails brushed against the paper as you gulped. "I-I didn't expect him to send me _any_ correspondence." You cleared your throat. "I would like to open this alone. If you don't mind."

Your son left the room without questioning you. You waited until his footsteps faded away before you dared to rip open the paper. You tried not to rip it to shreds to prevent a mess. You placed the paper on the table before you opened the box. Inside of the box, you looked at a detailed glass rose.

Holding the rose in between your fingers, you peered back at the letter inside of the box. Picking up the paper, you skimmed the message for the sender. Your fingers slacked in their grip, almost causing the rose to fall from your hand. You hurried to maneuver it back into the box before you reread the letter.

Prince Iroh sent you the gift.

In his note, he apologized for the pain he caused from his secrets. He expressed his feelings again, wanting to reconnect and build up trust between the both of you.

With a proper location to send a letter to, you wrote him a letter. You explained your reasoning in doubting his intentions. You sent it through a new form of the courier system. Ba Sing Se went through an overhaul where the city went through a _fast_ modernization. You didn't have _any_ hopes of a fast response, so you went through your daily life.

Weeks later, a letter was sent back to you.

He responded that he wanted to conduct a _courtship_.

In that moment, you _knew_ he was serious. No one voiced those intentions unless they had the intent to marry. At least, he expected a long standing correspondence with the end goal of a relationship. Even if you never made it official, he would repair your broken trust.

Despite your reservations, you missed your _friend._

So, you agreed.

Iroh's next letter had a parcel accompanying it. Another glass figurine was added to your growing collection. You bought a display case with a small key to show off the pieces.

They were beautiful when the sun hit them just right.

* * *

A year passed before Iroh expressed his intent in returning to Ba Sing Se. After helping his nephew in his position and witnessed him get married, he felt comfortable enough to leave him in the Fire Nation. Of course, he wanted to buy back the Jasmine Dragon. He missed serving his blends to other same minded people who were converted into the proper way to brew tea.

You pondered wanting to help him in the tea house. Even with no work experience, you wanted nothing more to help him continue on his dream of having a successful tea house. Ever since he left, the clientele of the tea house _dwindled_ without his stable hand and amazing brews.

You hoped your enthusiasm would disguise _any_ mess ups.

Checking your calendar, you calculated how long a passenger ship sailed from the Fire Nation toward the Earth Kingdom. With the new advances, ocean travel became faster and easier for those involved.

You circled the week Iroh would return back into your life.

At the end of that circled week, Iroh appeared on the front steps of your home. He wore the clothing that displayed his status. Anyone who saw him wouldn't _dare_ sneer at him for lack of pedigree.

You welcomed him inside with a tender kiss.

_**The end. ** _


End file.
